


The Blue Moon

by bastilas



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Homophobic Language, M/M, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastilas/pseuds/bastilas
Summary: Credence finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time while visiting the Blue Moon - a nightclub notorious for narcotics, sex work, and wild nights - when the entire club is raided for a drug bust. Queue Credence getting locked up in a holding cell for the night and interviewed by Percival Graves, a narcotics detective.Despite his conscience screaming at him, telling him to stay away, Graves gets entangled in his life.





	The Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaryLikesRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLikesRoses/gifts).



> First of all, I'm not a law student by any means, and I'm pretty sure half the things the cops do in this fic are not allowed irl, but lets just...... ignore that. Also, I wanted to go back and edit this story a lot more too, but if I try and edit it more it'll literally never get posted because I'd be too self-conscious. This fic sounds more edgy than it actually is thanks to the description too lol
> 
> I'm devoting this story to Marylikesroses, who named Graves' cat Smokey <3

Blue lights, the deep shade of sadness, poured over the gyrating bodies like moonlight shone over the city at night. Shadows were cast long and deep across the club, bathing faces in darkness only otherwise illuminated by neon. Felt in his bones, his head, his heart, Credence allowed himself to be taken by the thrumming beat of the EDM music. The bass boomed much too heavily. Nothing could be heard above it aside from high-pitched laughs and the occasional yell.

Making a beeline for the bar, Credence parted people dis-concerned with taking their time to stop dancing while clutching bills he'd been saving for this outing with his part-time job in hand.

Mary Lou was out at a retreat with the other church mothers for the night, therefore Credence made a breakaway while he could. Chastity and Modesty slept away in their heavy comforters at home, unaware of his whereabouts, and Mary Lou wouldn't be home until morning.

As soon as Ma left, Credence ran his hands through his hair, letting it fan out into a mess, and put on a plain white t-shirt and jeans; the best look he could think of without making it too difficult to come home and return to his regular, dull self.

The club he chose — the Blue Moon — stood only a few blocks away from their worn down church-turned-home, an unsuspecting building with rusted metal siding, singularly defined by the neon sign on it titled 'Blue Moon' with a crescent above it. Only through spoken word did Credence know about it. A den of sin, his mother told him one day as they passed, 'full of sinners, sodomites, and society's worst degenerates.'

And yet, and yet, on his twenty-first birthday, he heard two men speaking about the amazing night they'd spent in the club. Despite his mother's warnings, Credence showed his ID to the club bouncer and paid the fee; bathing himself in the iridescent neon lights.

For his first drink, he ordered vodka. In hindsight, it hadn't been his brightest idea, but there was no changing it.

The bartender nodded to him, taking the money from Credence's palm in a hurry, ducking down to mix the liquids. In the time the mixologist took, Credence took his time to observe the club with a note of disbelief. People openly ground on each other, while others were sitting around, looking rather spaced out.

The bartender placed the vodka on the counter in front of him then turned to the next customer without care. Credence had never drunk alcohol aside from the sickeningly sweet wine at church. In fact, the drink he ordered was of unknown taste to him. He took a full swig anyway. It tasted bitter in his mouth and burned as he swallowed it down, refusing to make a face at the foul taste. He had no understanding as to why people not only willingly put such a drink in their mouth, but also as to how they _enjoyed_ it. He supposed they didn't exactly consume it for its tase.

As he took another sip of his drink, a girl with no control of her limbs or balance, drunk or high out of her mind, stepped into his personal space, her back to his front as she was blathering something indecipherable to a man in front of her who had no care his companion was completely encroaching on his personal space as they began to dance — or more accurately, flail around.

Credence stepped away and took another large swig of his drink. It was just as difficult to drown down the third time. But eventually, he drank it all. Only tiny, broken up pieces of ice remained in the glass. Credence felt pleasantly buzzed, despite the burn in his throat every time he swallowed.

The club swelled with occupants far above what should've been allowed. Every few seconds or so, someone came too close to him for his liking. The lights flashed, people danced, and Credence thought himself a wallflower with shame that burned the same way his drink did.

He forced himself to yell at the bartender for another drink, ready to lose himself in the midnight lights of the Blue Moon. Ma's influence would not reach him here, he wouldn't allow it. He wanted to escape — not to allow his painful inability to relate to people his age interfere. To lose control of himself, drinking was an integral step.

The second time around, his drink didn't tear away at his throat so painfully. Perhaps the previous drink burned away the pain.

His inhibitions left him in a slow and subtle way. His clothing, his appearance, mattered less than they did before. A lone woman with brilliantly bright pink hair came up to him, smelling of cigarettes and drinks, much like the entire club did, and she clumsily reached for his hand, trying to pull him out to the dance floor.

She was drunk, clearly, but Credence allowed her to pull him into the body of dancing people. He didn't know her name, but already she stepped into his space, beginning to dance in the strange way everyone else did. Briefly, Credence allowed himself to imagine he was someone else; that this girl wasn't too drunk to care about his appearance, or his awkward personality. She threw her arms up around his shoulders, and she began to slowly move against him.

Credence recoiled backward instantly, the spell broken by her movements.

"Come onnnn," she slurred, trying to get close to him again. Credence stepped back and nearly crashed into another couple. He wondered where her friends were, or if she had a boyfriend, because she clearly needed someone to be watching out for her with how gone she was.

"I- um," Credence started. Explaining to her that she got too close for comfort would be pointless, so Credence made the fastest exit possible. He pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathroom. A few people along the way were out of their minds with drugs, and Credence felt a pang of pity for them. It was a sin to put drugs into the body God created for them, but really, he couldn't speak out against them, considering the slight fog covering his mind.

Blessedly, the area near the bathroom mostly had a few people standing about, and there wasn't a crowd for him to push through anymore. Credence opened the door to the bathroom and he froze. Before him, a couple openly made out against the wall. Credence forced his eyes away, pretending he couldn't hear them moaning in the back as he stepped up to the sink. He turned the cold tap on, grateful for the chill of the water. It grounded him. Looking in the mirror, he found his face to be lightly dusted in pink, and sweat gathered on his forehead underneath his hair. Either the club was warmer than he realized, or it was the effect of nerves.

However nervous he was, another part of him shouted for joy at the freedom the nightclub provided him. Nobody watched him with the eye of a hawk, nor did they preach Christian values. He was simply free to do as he wanted, with only the blocks in his mind stopping him from damning himself to Hell. No Ma screaming at him, no fear of being hurt, and no rants about the sin plaguing their society.

The people in the club stuck to their own business, caring little for the others around. Credence found it refreshing.

It was with freedom he left the bathroom, a slight amount of confidence upon his face; if it came from the alcohol or atmosphere, he didn't know. All he cared about was that for once in his life, he knew the life others lived daily while he remained trapped in an oppressive church turned prison with his adoptive mother and sisters.

As he made his way to the bar, another drink in mind, he began to hear yelling.

In little more than a second, lights turned white and bright as the club illuminated with the regular fluorescent bulbs overhead. The music stopped soon after, leaving a sudden and jarring absence of noise that made Credence's ears ring. People stopped dancing and confusion took over. Even the bartender wore a puzzled expression.

It was as though the blue lights took the magic of the club with them, leaving the club patrons in a dazed confusion.

Credence's eyes stung from the sudden influx of light, and he groaned, trying to make sense of what was going on.

Was it time for the club to close? Surely it wasn't. Credence checked his watch to see it was only one in the morning, and a place like this had to stay open later than that. It also didn't explain the yelling at the front.

People around him complained loudly and tried to leave, but something was stopping people at the doors.

Credence couldn't see the front of the club, but he knew something was happening that shouldn't. More and more yelling and sounds of protest came from the front and Credence frowned. Of course, the one night he chose to enjoy himself, it was ruined. He supposed he needed to be heading home soon anyway ー even then that reasoning didn't stop the disappointment.

The crowd parted, and two officers came through, making a beeline for the back of the club. The part that Credence didn't dare go near for the fear of what he knew happened back there; sex work and drugs. Or at least, it was rumoured. The detectives wore badges and bulletproof vests overtop their suits, and four heavily armed police offices followed behind them.

Credence thought this sort of bust only happened in movies, or at times when the club wasn't filled to the brim with civilians, but evidently not.

The male detective pushed past him, and Credence got an up-close look at his impassive face. He was handsome, with a strong jaw and heavy set brows. Butー that wasn't what was remarkable about him. He stormed forward with a single-minded focus that spoke of intense confidence and bravery. Even the female detective beside him appeared intense as she gripped her holstered gun tightly and her eyes darted around cautiously.

Credence forced himself to look away, shame burning deep inside for his thoughts about the male detective. He knew how he felt towards men, the attraction he couldn't stop, but the way he couldn't change it didn't stop him from hating and cursing himself at every opportunity. To act on his thoughts and impulses would be his ticket straight to hell, where he'd be damned for eternity.

And Ma made it very clear how she felt about sodomites. She glared at them on the street and preached for hours about what their sins would afford them. During the pride rallies, she always made sure to protest.

Credence hated it.

The detectives disappeared into the crowd again and the commotion at the front kept up. Finally, the crowd began to clear up slowly, and Credence nearly fainted when he found out why.

The police were arresting half of the club's occupants.

If he were to be arrested, Ma would kill him.

How was it even legal to arrest everyone present? Surely they had no law that allowed such a thing? He'd done absolutely nothing wrong. He was of age, he'd avoided drugs, and paid to get in. _They couldn'tー_

But an officer came up to him, snapping cuffs around his bony wrists with a roughness not needed. Credence went willingly. He was read his rights, then marched to a police cruiser. He could hardly believe the situation as the officer placed him in the back with some other guy whose eyes were blank and his mouth hung open.

Occasionally, the man beside him made noises on their journey to the station, but they were unintelligible. Credence's heart raced. He didn't know what they'd be charging him with, nor did he know what would happen to him from here on out. This changed the night completely, and he couldn't help the slight gathering of tears in his eyes as he shook in his seat.

The second Ma heard of this, she'd kill him.

________

After being kept in a holding cell with a dozen other people, Credence began to lose it. The possibility of terrible punishments Ma could conjure was endless. Everything ranging from a beating to him being kicked out, forced to fend for himself on the street with only his small job as a waiter to support him. With him being twenty-one, it was entirely within her legal bounds to send him packing.

But she wouldn't.

Or at least, he didn't think she would. She needed the money he brought in from his job to support the church and its cause. Without him, the place would be a dirty mess, falling into disrepair ー a place to be scoffed at. Ma would never allow that.

That, however, did not soothe Credence's nerves. Just because she wouldn't kick him out didn't mean his life couldn't become more difficult than it already remained. There'd be vicious anger from her at first, which meant pain. To follow, she'd cut down on the portions of his meals, and likely give him a larger workload. In a way, Ma would be justified in doing so; he'd given into temptation, straight into the 'den of sin.'

To make it worse, regret wasn't an emotion he felt towards his actions.

Oh, and she'd be furious to know that.

An officer sliding open the metal bars shook him out of the gloomy thoughts, bringing his attention to the man he called out of the holding cell. So far four or five men had been pulled out and hadn't come back, leading Credence to wonder where they'd gone. Perhaps they were being questioned. Or maybe they'd been let go? Credence could only hope for the former outcome.

The man left with the officer and the door was shut with a resolute and deafening slam, sealing Credence into the cramped space full of drunken and high people. He didn't belong with these people. It'd been easy to spot from the moment he stepped foot into the Blue Moon, and glaringly obvious as the officer placed him into the cruiser.

Credence spent the next undesirable minutes inside his head, dreading the future. People around him grumbled slurred complaints, some slammed on the bars, jeering at the officers, and some so out of it they laid passed out on the floor. Among these people, Credence tried to keep his sanity.

In what felt like several hours later, a door opened and the detectives he saw from the club entered the room. They spoke briefly to another officer, who nodded, reaching for his keys to unlock the cell door.

"I'll take him," the male one, the one Credence had ogled earlier, said to his partner, and then he pointed.

_Directly at Credence._

Credence's heart skipped a beat or ten, and he was sure his eyes had gone so wide he'd looked like he'd spotted a ghost.

The male detective, however, either didn't take notice or didn't mention his reaction. He simply waited for Credence to get up.

"I'll take him then," the woman said to her partner. He nodded in response, setting his eyes back on Credence, who remained glued to the bench as though struck through with paralyzing fear.

"Come on," The man implored, not unkindly.

Credence broke out of the daze, managing to move his legs again. The male detective took a piece of paper from the officer as he waited for Credence.

"Follow me."

And Credence did. Without hesitation.

The detective led him to an interrogation room equipped with a steel table and four chairs. He shut the door behind Credence then fished through his pockets before producing a small key that gleamed in the harsh yellow light. "Here," he said, waiting until Credence held out his hands.

He did so with pause, frowning. He always hated his hands; they were pale and scrawny things that bore the mark of his past mistakes in the form of scars. No fresh marks adorned them, but that didn't negate the harsh lines written in raised red bumps, spelling a tale he didn't want the detective to read.

The detective took the cuffs off in a simple, practiced motion, not giving his hands a second longer of his attention than needed.

"Sit," he said abruptly. "I'm Detective Graves, and I'll just be asking you a few questions."

Credence nodded and slowly pulled out the steel chair, cringing as it screeched across the cement floor.

"You're not in trouble, in case you were wondering. Or at least, I'd like to think you're not. You're not in our system, Mr. Barebone, and you have the look that tells me you were caught up in the wrong place. Now, let's start with your age. You're twenty-one, correct?"

Credence nodded again, trying not to show his confusion at the question. Detective Graves had his file right in front of him, and he gave his information to the officer when they first brought him in by handing over ID.

"And you were at the club alone?"

"Yes."

"Were you there willingly?"

What?

"Yes?" Credence answered again, his mind racing to understand the line of questions.

"You sound unsure. Nobody coerced you into doing anything you didn't want?"

"No." Credence said plainly, sure he looked confused in Graves' eyes.

For a second, Detective Graves frowned, obviously trying to form the next question.

"And all the bills found in your pocket? Where are those from?"

"Tips. From work."

Graves sat back. His shoulders sagged slightly and his frown loosened slightly. Only the bags under his eyes betrayed his stress. "I think the officers made the wrong assumption about you," he stated.

Credence watched Graves carefully, trying not to make a nervous tick. "And... what would that be?"

"They thought you were being paid. For sex."

Oh. _Oh_. Credence fidgeted with his sleeve, not daring to look up. How could they possibly think he was a _prostitute?_ Credence didn't think he had the look of one about him. Or at least, he hoped he didn't. If anything, he thought the way he held himself would say otherwise. Apparently not.

Graves leaned in. "It's just that most people don't carry such a large amount of money in cash with them anymore. And you have this nervous demeanour to you. There have been issues with sex-trafficking through this club before, and we had to be sure, but I'm good at reading people, and that's not your issue..."

Credence sharply looked up, staring the detective in the eyes.

"No, your issue is something else. Let's talk about your hands, Mr. Barebone."

Credence promptly took his hands off the table, setting them clasped together in his lap. "There's nothing to talk about. I fell and cut them up badly," he said, a bit too quickly.

"Right, because falling creates marks like those. How about the bruises on your arm?"

Feeling defensive, Credence sat up straight. "Why am I here, Detective Graves? I went to the Blue Moon to have a night to myself, and instead I... ended up here. Iー I was supposed to be home probably an hour or two ago."

Graves stilled, schooling his face so as not to show surprise towards Credence's interruption. Credence looked him over, taking in the plain, black, long-sleeved shirt and the way a few stray hairs had fallen out of place into the man's unfairly handsome face.

Graves shifted in his seat, having noticed the staring.

"As you more than likely know, the Blue Moon is rife substance abuse and drug trades. The goal was to arrest most of the club's occupants on the assumption everyone present had either done drugs or had seen something take place and failed to report it. You are a bit of a wildcard. Clearly, you have done nothing of the sort, nor are you a sex-worker. You were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Relief coursed through Credence like he'd been wash free of sin. He just barely resisted laughing out loud, leaping for joy, or a combination of both. Sadly, time remained a factor in his life, and he'd gone way past the curfew he set for himself. Ma had to be home now, and she would be boiling with anger.

"Am I free to go then?"

Graves watched him for a second, then nodded.

"I'm sorry about the mix-up. Like I said: we had to be sure. There's just one more thing before I let you go, Mr. Barebone."

Relief turned to dread.

"Yes?"

"I've been at this job for a long time. I've met all sorts of people, and I know when someone's lying to me. I just want to make sure you're alright, so I'll ask again. The marks on your hands, how did you get them?" Graves asked, staring at Credence intently, as though he could force an answer out with intensity alone.

Well, he thought wrong.

Credence fumbled through an answer in his head, careful in not taking his time. "I said it was an accident. I... I fell on glass shards. Can I go now?" Credence asks, surprised at how demanding he sounded. He wants to be as far away as possible from this station. The place where he was brought in for a crime he never committed, where he was assumed to be a whore, where questions were asked about his scars, and where he was locked in a room with a man he couldn't stop looking at.

What started as a night for freedom quickly turned into the very opposite, and he'd like nothing more than to be at home and face his punishment so he wouldn't have to push the thought of the attractive and caring detective out of his head for the thousandth time.

Graves finally gave a nod and stood up. "You won't go on record for this, so don't worry about that. Thank you for your time, Mr. Barebone. I'll walk you out."

Graves held the door open, allowing the soft light from the hall into the room. Credence passed him, and surprised himself by noticing he stood taller than Graves. Credence was by no means a short man, but somehow the fact surprised him. What Graves lacked in height he certainly made up for in intensity.

"I'm assuming you'll need to call for a ride or a cab," Graves said as they walked through the hall.

Credence nodded, deciding to keep quiet.

Graves led him into a large and somewhat busy room, surprising Credence. How many people worked at this time of night? Looking at the large clock on the wall, he took notice of the fact it was three-thirty in the morning. Many of the desks had a coffee cup placed atop them and occasionally an officer yawned.

"The guest phone is over there." Graves pointed to the wall where a rather old looking phone sat. "Again, thank you for your time, Mr. Barebone. Have a good night."

Credence turned to face Detective Graves. He gave an unsure smile, nodding in lieu of a goodbye. He didn't know what to say to the man after having lied to his face and had inappropriate thoughts about him.

He turned his attention back to the phone, forcing the detective from his mind.

To call a cab or Ma?

Calling a cab would make it look as though he's trying to hide his actions from her, while calling her would at least be confessing his actions. _Honesty is a virtue_ , Ma always preached.

So calling Ma it was.

Credence shakily dialed in her number, knowing what awaited him on the other end. The phone rang a few times, and each time his heart pounded in his rib cage harder, all the way until he heard the phone being picked up roughly from its stand.

" _Hello?_ " Ma's voice demanded rather than greeted. It wasn't often a phone call came at three-thirty in the morning, and she'd likely worked out who it was on the other end.

"Maー"

" _CREDENCE BAREBONE WHERE ARE YOU?!_ " She screamed into the phone.

Credence had to hold the phone away from his ear, ignoring the looks he received from the other officers, who quickly went back to work, probably used to this scenario.

"I'm sorry. I went out and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," he babbled, using Detective Graves' wording.

" _Where are you, Credence?!_ " She yelled again.

Credence took a big breath in. "The police stationー"

" _THE WHAT? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"_

"Nothing!" Credence said quickly, struggling to keep his hand from shaking. "I told you I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

" _We'll discuss this later,_ " she stated, icily cold. Whenever she took that tone, Credence knew to hide. To not fight back. " _Which station?_ "

"The one north of home."

Ma hung up without so much as a goodbye, leaving Credence stunned and alone in a room full of busy officers and passing people. The sudden cut off left a disorienting effect. He walked over to a waiting area, taking a seat in the beaten and frayed chair, grateful to be off legs that shook like jelly.

Now, the most difficult part: waiting for Ma.

__________

Graves didn't particularly count himself a kind man. He did his job perfectly, yes, arresting those who broke the law and did bad, but he never did it with the same caring softness Tina carried with her beneath her exterior. Never went above and beyond to reach out to victims or help an old lady across the street or something like that. He only cared criminals got what they deserved: to be behind bars.

To say the concern he felt for Credence surprised him would be an understatement. Hell, even Tina watched him in puzzlement when she noticed him staring at Credence, who currently sat in the waiting area, leg bouncing up and down in nervous energy.

"I take it the arresting officers were wrong?" Tina asked, an eyebrow raised.

Graves mumbled an agreement. "Simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A big misunderstanding."

"I see," she commented, "Poor kid."

Kid. The word jolted Graves. He swept over Credence again, taking in the inky black hair and thin figure, wondering how a twenty-one-year-old not only gained his concern, but his attraction too. Graves had seen the looks Credence gave during the interview, the ones that lingered just a bit too long, betraying the otherwise closed off way he carried himself. Worse, Graves liked the looks, and he found himself lingering over Credence now, prompting Tina to put a soft and hesitant hand upon his shoulder.

"Picquery give you a rough time? We caught Huber red-handed, and still he had the audacity to call a lawyer ー there's likely nothing you could've gotten out of him anyway."

Ray Huber, who'd had opium on him, and stacks of cash, still tried to fight them as though he'd done nothing wrong. The man was done for, for sure, but getting him to confess or rat out others certainly would've helped. Picquery had been upset he'd managed to get nothing out of the man, then telling Graves to help everyone with finishing up the interviews of the people arrested in the Blue Moon.

That's how he came upon Credence Barebone, the mysterious twenty-one-year-old who went to the Blue Moon alone with a stack of bills in his pocket and scars and fresh bruises.

Graves may be a narcotics detective, but he'd worked long enough down this career path to know the signs of abuse when he saw them. Dealing with abuse victims, however, was far from his job description; in the end, all he'd accomplished with Credence had been scaring him off.

"Picquery still chewed me out though," Graves finally said.

"She's just stressed. You know how bad it's been lately, with the higher-ups on her back about the fentanyl crisis."

Graves sighed. "I know."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"You should go home to Newt. I'll finish up all the paperwork," he finally said.

Tina stared at him as though he'd announced he'd killed a man. Her face then lit up, a large grin blooming as she clearly resisted the urge to surge forward and hug Graves, which she knew he wouldn't appreciate.

"Really?" She asked, beaming. "Thank you so much! I'm exhausted, and Newt's been on my case for not being home lately. I promise I'll return the favour sometime!"

"Don't worry about it, Tina. Go home and get some sleep, I'll see you on Monday."

She nodded. "Thank you again!"

Tina left promptly after, likely ready to be home and in her comfy bed curled up with her fiancée.

Graves turned back to look at Credence just one more time, only to see a woman with dark hair, cropped short and stern, march toward Credence with the fires of hell burning in her eyes. The way Credence stood up slowly with his head bowed told Graves the entire story in a matter of seconds.

When Credence left the station, Graves knew a good fate would not await him at the hands of this woman.

And Graves, despite his conscience screaming at him, telling him to stay away, could not help but find himself enamoured with Credence Barebone.

__________

His hands scream at him to stop, to set down the burning platter so that pressure will be taken off his hands. Setting down the platter wasn't an option; he needed to get the food to the patrons in his section before they had to wait even longer than they already had. The kitchen especially took its time in making food that day, and Credence didn't feel like dealing with another irate customer or losing a tip.

Even at the expense of his hands, which are covered in gauze to disguise the cut marks. An accident in the kitchen at home, he'd told his manager, who accepted the excuse easily, never caring to ask any further. She only cared he was functional for work.

Credence set down the bowls of soup on the customer's table, smiling as they thanked him with relief in their voice. He wanted to scowl at them. What did it matter if they had to wait a bit longer for their food? His own stomach growled for the hundredth time that day ー Ma restricted the amount of food he was allowed to eat as a punishment.

Credence then took a family's order, ignoring the way the wife stared at his hands as he wrote down their orders. The pain was a normality for Credence, as sad as it was to admit, and her curious stares certainly weren't helping him feel normal.

Returning to the kitchen with an order, Credence took a second for himself, standing in place while his hands pulsed with sharp pain.

Modesty had tried to help him with his hands, giving him gauze and peroxide she'd found hiding in the cabinets, and Credence had tried to refuse her help, not wanting her to get into trouble. She always was willful, never wanting to listen to Ma and always ready to jump to Credence's side. He feared one day she'd become Ma's new primary target.

Though, Credence felt nothing but gratitude towards her. Without Modesty, he'd been sure his hands would've become infected.

Luckily, Credence managed to pass the bandages on his hands as ones from work.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Soon enough the scabs would heal, becoming fresh reddish-pink marks upon his palms. He would get through the pain; he always did.

Pinning the order to the rack, Credence strode back out into the dining room, ready to tend to other customers. As soon as he opened the door, he froze. In only a matter of seconds, he transported back to the police station, remembering the crushing anxiety, the way the interview room trapped and suffocated him, the thoughts of Graves he shoved down.

In his section sat the detective, who sat alone staring at his phone while he waited for service.

Credence promptly turned back into the kitchen.

"Credence? What are you doing?"

Credence turned to see his supervisor, Nora, who always watched everyone with a sharp eye. Her uniform remained as prim and pressed, as usual, her hair pinned into a neat bun atop her head. She'd always praised him for being a hard worker, and Credence thinks she likes him, despite the no-nonsense exterior. Though, he can never quite tell that with anyone.

"Iー uh, it's nothing. I just... I thought I forgot something in here, sorry," he hastily explained.

Nora narrowed her eyes for a moment. "Are you okay?"

Credence nodded quickly, forcing himself to move, to pass through the doors and confront the reason his heart raced in his chest. Out in the dining room, people ate and talked, blissfully unaware of his turmoil. Shakily, Credence walked over to Graves' table, wanting to shift his sleeves over the bruises upon his arm or to stuff his hands in his pockets.

He did neither.

Graves set his phone down on the tabletop, then glanced up to Credence. He froze, staring at Credence without a word passing between them for too long.

"Credence?" Graves said after a moment, snapping the jilted silence between them. This was the first time Graves referred to him solely by his first name, Credence belated noted.

"Detective Graves."

"I'm assuming you're my waiter?"

Credence could only give a nod of affirmation, finding his voice deigned to leave him when he wanted it most. But what could he say to Graves now? _Thank you for not thinking I was a prostitute? Thank you for letting me out of jail?_ That'd certainly make for good gossip among the patrons and his co-workers if they overheard.

Avoiding eye-contact with the detective, Credence bored into the table. "Is there something you'd like to drink?" He asked.

"Just water," Graves replied, most definitely trying to look Credence in the eyes.

"Got it," Credence said, if a bit too abruptly, then turned on his heel. If Nora saw him treating a customer like that she'd surely have a stroke. Or at least harshly reprimand him.

Credence tended to the other patrons in his section after, bringing them their drinks and food and bills, pretending his hands didn't shake violently, that his heart wasn't trying to run a marathon in his chest. Every time he passed Graves, he thought his heart may have skipped a beat.

When he eventually had to go back to Graves, Credence focused on keeping his hands steady as stone, setting the drink down on the table gently.

"Thank you," Graves said, still trying to make eye contact.

Credence finally met his eyes, immediately wishing he hadn't. In the bright light of the dining room, Credence could see that Graves' eyes weren't dark brown, as originally thought, but hazel. Fitting, for such a unique man, Credence thought. The eyes were intense, speaking of confidence, perhaps even arrogance, and Credence wanted to look away so badly.

"Is there something you want?" Credence questioned. "T-to order, I mean?" He tacked on, ready to slap himself across the face for such a silly mix up of words.

"Just a hamburger with a side of fries. Nothing special." Graves watched Credence, his face not betraying any thoughts he had about Credence's blunder.

"That's all?"

Graves nodded, still watching Credence with that same captivating intensity.

"I'll be back with your order in a bit," Credence said, wanting to tack something on about their meeting at the station. Not talking about the situation was what Credence thought he wanted, and yet entirely avoiding the subject somehow made their interactions ragged and tense.

Taking the order to the kitchen and tacking it in the rack, he took another second for himself that he normally wouldn't allow. Nora was likely elsewhere, watching someone with her scrutinizing eyes, and the rest of the staff buzzed around, too busy with their own duties to take notice of Credence standing around, lost to thought.

With his hands burning in pain, and his heart racing, he wondered how much longer he could keep up with this life ー how much longer he could continue to work a part-time job in order to bring home money for the church, how much longer he could continue to spread his mother's message of God to the streets, and how much longer he could bear to live under her oppressive roof.

If it weren't for him having only a high-school certificate, and Modesty to protect from his Ma, he liked to think that he'd of left the moment the clock struck twelve and he was no longer seventeen.

But that wasn't his life, that never happened, he has to remind himself.

There were people waiting for their food, and a detective who unnervingly looked as though he had Credence all figured out; a man that Credence found himself shamefully attracted to no matter what sort of denial went on within his head.

 _Time to face down everything, just like you always do_ , he thought.

Credence continued to serve the other patrons for ten minutes, until Graves' food was ready at the back of the kitchen. He squared his shoulders, grabbing the plate containing the hamburger and fries gently, careful to keep it off the most painful part of his injured hands.

Graves stopped texting and set his phone down to look at Credence once he placed his food down.

"Thank you very much, Credence."

Credence hesitated for a moment, hovering near Graves' table.

"You're looking better now that you're not at the station, by the way."

He froze. Credence wanted to be angry for Graves bringing up the subject at his work, but only relief settled over him, calm and gentle, now that the barrier separating them and what happened at the station had been broken down by Graves. Though, what Graves meant by him looking better, Credence didn't know. He wouldn't allow himself to look too into the compliment, not ready to accept what it may mean.

"Thank you," Credence finally said. "Just tell me if you need anything else."

Graves gave Credence a genuine smile, one that Credence had to turn away from, lest his face start to heat up.

The compliment meant nothing, the smile only conveyed Graves' gratitude for his service, nothing else, Credence firmly reminded himself.

_Nothing else._

Graves being at his restaurant had only been a turn of bad luck and pure coincidence. Credence was as unlucky as they came. All of this meant nothing.

As Credence dotted between tables, taking orders and grabbing drinks, his mind remained elsewhere, distracting him. An order or two he'd taken down may have been incorrect, but it didn't matter. Not when detective Graves sat only a couple of feet away, definitely not glancing away from his phone to look at Credence every once in a while.

Each minute that passed by meant a minute closer to talking to Graves again. It was like this electric pull Credence couldn't resist ー one he didn't want to resist ー and all the same, he found his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he came up to Graves' table a final time. Credence likely wouldn't see the man again, after this, and he didn't know if he liked that thought or not; Graves had been nothing but kind to him. He cared enough to ask Credence about the scars, no matter how unappreciated the attention was, and he'd definitely not flirted with Credence.

As his eyes met Graves' again, he came to the striking realization he didn't want Graves to leave, never to be seen again.

"All finished?" Credence asked.

"Yes." Graves handed the empty plate to Credence. "Thank you."

Credence tried to give a shaky smile of his own. "And are you paying with cash, or credit?"

"Cash, please."

"I'll grab your bill," Credence said, lingering a second too long, then turned away with the empty dish.

He didn't want to part with the only person who'd ever cared.

Credence only had Modesty to fall back on, but it wasn't the same ー she was only eleven years old, not capable of providing the emotional support he needed. Besides, protecting her fell on him, not the other way around. Reluctantly, Credence grabbed the bill, glancing down at the total. Twelve dollars and ninety-nine cents was perhaps a modest price as far as non-fast food joints in New York went, even if the restaurant didn't hold up to a lot of standards.

Credence approached Graves for the last time, laying the bill on the table in front of Graves.

"I hope you have a good day," Credence said. If he could blink out of existence, he'd love to in that moment, wishing he could undo the words immediately. Really? Those were his parting words for a man he actually cared about?

Graves, having no insight on Credence's internal plight, beamed. "You too. And thank you for the service, you did lovely." Graves stood up, fishing out his wallet. He searched through it for a few seconds, then produced a couple of bills and something else that Credence couldn't see, as it was hidden under the bills Graves placed on the table.

He shouldered on his coat, and as Credence went to grab the money he left, Graves leaned toward him slightly.

" _And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not in jail_ ," he spoke in a low voice that made Credence want to shiver.

Credence's face heated up against his will, and he quickly pocketed the bills, watching as Graves left with a wave, dark coat billowing behind him.

As quickly as he appeared, Graves had left Credence's life again.

But... _Wait_. The piece of paper Graves had left!

Credence took the bills out of his pocket, counting forty dollars, and a piece of paper that looked as though it'd been torn out of a notebook, with a hastily written number on it in blue ink.

A phone number.

Graves' number?

Credence sighed, closing his palm on the last piece of Graves he had with him. The number meant that the surprise appearance of the detective didn't have to be the last time Credence saw him ー it was a promise, a trail of hope that Credence allowed himself.

Amongst a life of routines, chores, oppression, and pain, a small light opened within Credence. He now possessed a secret, an out, something his Ma couldn't take from him, something she'd never have to hear about.

Credence stuffed the number into his pocket.

His palms didn't sting quite as much anymore.

_______

The door creaked loudly as Credence pushed it open, uncaring as it echoed through the entryway. Credence unbuttoned his coat and placed it on the rack beside Chastity's and his Ma's, noting everyone was home, likely having dinner. As per usual, Credence's shift ended right at the time Ma designated dinner time, uncaring Credence had to rush home if he'd like a warm meal.

Not that he'd be getting one tonight.

He'd had a bit of leftover bread at work when Nora heard his stomach growl embarrassingly loud, but a couple of slices of bread didn't satisfy the grating feeling of hunger.

Credence set down the packet he kept tip money in for Ma, making sure the five dollar bill and Graves' number were still tucked away in the pocket of his pants.

In the main room of their cramped home sat Modesty, Chastity, and Ma at the table, enjoying some sort of soup without any chatter. Each step Credence took was amplified by the creaky floorboards in the silence.

"Credence!" Modesty called jovially, turning away from her soup. "Come sit! The soups still warm!"

"Modesty!" Chastity elbowed the younger girl sharply.

Modesty turned back to the table, giving a sheepish look to their Ma, who took in the young girl's behaviour with a cold stare. "Sorry," Modesty mumbled.

It was likely, in her excitement, that she'd forgotten Credence was to go without eating for five days.

"To bed, Credence," Ma commanded, without a regard for how his day went.

Credence nodded. He was an adult, and being sent to bed early without dinner should've been insulting. Instead, he followed Ma's orders with a skip of his heart. Without her, he'd have nowhere to live. He had to play by her rules.

With one last regretful look at the back of Modesty's head, he walked upstairs to his bedroom.

His room only contained a single bed and side table, both in need of an upgrade. The side table wobbled whenever weight was added to it, and the springs in his mattress squeaked at the slightest movement.

Credence tossed his fraying shoes on the floor, sitting back on his bed.

He took the five dollar bill out, placing it under the mattress where he'd start saving for whatever venture he'd dare plan next. Then, he took out Graves' number. Credence considered it, noting the neatly-written numbers, imagining what Graves would say if Credence called.

One problem existed in this made-up scenario of his; he didn't have his own phone.

Ma believed anyone walking around with their minds immersed in technology were falling into the Devil's grip slowly. Social media encouraged vanity, and kept those who could be following the Lord's message ignorant to the world around them. Therefore they only had the stationary phone at home. The one down in the kitchen where Ma and the girls were.

Credence put the number back in his pocket, turning onto his side.

________

Four hours later, at ten o'clock, Credence shuffled down the stairs as quietly as possible. He'd practiced this for weeks before he made his breakaway to the Blue Moon and adeptly made it to the kitchen without a sound. He'd be proud of himself if he'd had the mind for it, but his heart raced and hands shook as he withdrew the number from his pocket. Calling Graves frightened him.

What was there to say? Of course, he knew Graves gave him the number for a reason, one he barely wanted to admit to himself, and yet he couldn't figure out what to do.

Credence forced himself forward, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He punched the numbers in then held the phone up to his ear, each ring giving rise to a wave of anxiety. And then finally,

_"Hello, this is Graves."_

Credence opened his mouth to say something, finding he couldn't form words. He froze, mind blanking.

" _Hello?_ "

What should he say? What— oh God, he felt panic rising to a dangerous level.

" _Hello?_ " Graves asked, more insistently. Credence let more silence pass.

" _I'm going to hang up now_ ," Graves stated.

Credence let him, too busy trying to get his breathing under control.

The phone made a beep, letting him know the call disconnected. Credence stared at the phone in abject horror, worrying what Graves would think about the strange call, if he'd know it was Credence. Oh God, would Graves ever want to speak to him again after that weird silence?!

In the silence of his home, in the dark, Credence bowed his head over the counter, gripping the edges of it tightly. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, to which he blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of them. He couldn't do one simple task! He couldn't ask Graves why he'd given the number or even of held a simple conversation with the detective, no, he just froze, dooming himself to be alone again.

Resisting the urge to cry out loud, Credence snuck back into his room, curling up in a ball until he fell into a shaky slumber.

_______

The day he ran into Credence had been a coincidence; a lucky mistake in which Graves simply wanted a basic lunch at a cheap restaurant. Therefore, it seemed the perfect option. It'd lead to so much more. He wanted to see Credence again after his meal, thus the reason he slipped Credence his phone number.

He didn't know how Credence would respond to the unspoken offer to see him again. Though, blushes, stuttering, and Credence lingering just a bit too long told Graves what he needed to know: Credence harboured an attraction to him. One Graves had been sure Credence didn't care to act on until he caught him staring when he thought Graves otherwise distracted.

Still, he left the decision to meet again up to Credence.

He spent time at work after that lunch wondering if there'd be a call from Credence later that day. Even as Graves left work for home, he found himself checking his phone more often than usual.

Later that night, there'd been a call from an unidentified number, a norm for him. People called him for all sorts of work-related questions and developments all the time, even in the late hours of the night.

The call ended as nothing more than silence.

Perhaps it would've unsettled him if he hadn't known the person on the other line to be Credence. Why he'd been silent, Graves didn't quite know ー all he cared was that Credence called him. That had to mean something.

Maybe Credence didn't know what to say and lost his nerve?

That must've been it.

The following day, work overcame Graves. Yet another person died of an overdose and Picquery yelled at them for an hour straight. Graves didn't quite blame her, really, as her superiors likely yelled at her the same way earlier. However much Graves didn't appreciate being yelled at, he had to admit she was right. Twenty deaths from overdoses in three weeks did not make a good rate.

Thus, the phone call from Credence got pushed to the side, forgotten about in the stress work hoisted upon him.

Graves would like to say that, a week later, when he walked into Credence's restaurant yet again, it'd been nothing more than a matter of convenience. That it was one of the only nearby places to eat that made food he liked for a decent price. He didn't even know if Credence would be working.

As Graves walked in, Credence was one of the first people he saw.

Graves took a seat in the section he sat in last time, thinking Credence would likely work there again. It was something he learned after a long time spent observing people; most workplaces followed a pattern, an organization of work dolled out the same nearly every week.

When Credence finally came to stand in front of him, Graves smiled, not a hint of surprise upon his face that Credence ended up as his waiter again. The bandages on Credence's hands had been taken off, the dark circles under his eyes gone, and the bruises faded. He looked better than the last time Graves saw him.

"Detective Graves," Credence said, face open and eyes wide. He stood rigidly, as though he waited for Graves to strike out, to be angry.

Oh yes, it was definitely Credence who had called him that night.

"Credence. It's good to see you again."

"You too. Um, do you want to start off with some water?"

He nodded, taking in the contrast of Credence white shirt against his dark hair which had been freed from its usual rigid style. Credence watched the path of his eyes and breathed in sharply.

"And... same order as last time?" He asked, struggling to keep eye contact. He didn't bother to bring out his notepad and pen, Graves noted.

"You remember?"

"You're hard to forget," Credence stated, now staring at Graves. It was Graves' turn to be taken aback. Credence had never been so straightforward in this odd dance they've been doing around each other before.

Graves laughed a bit, if just to take some of the intensity between them away. "I'll take that as a compliment," he finally said.

Credence gave a small smile, one that lit up his entire face, and Graves knew he was doomed.

"I'll be back with your order," Credence said.

_______

The rest of Graves' meal passed by quite normally. Credence didn't have the time to linger as the restaurant started to fill with more and more people, and he had to rush back and forth to serve everyone adequately. Graves had to wait a couple of minutes for Credence to take his bill, but found himself alright with the fact. He could hardly fault Credence for a wave of people suddenly entering the restaurant ー as much as Graves needed to be back at work soon.

At last, Credence stopped at his table, breathing a bit heavier than normal and with his sleeves pushed up.

"All finished?" Credence asked.

Graves nodded, then realized that he wouldn't be seeing Credence again after this if Credence didn't call again. He didn't want that, and he was sure Credence wanted to see him.

"Credence... I'm sorry if this is a bit forward, but would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"

Credence froze. The lighter expression he wore for Graves and Graves only wiped off his face.

"I-"

Or perhaps Graves had misread him after all.

"If you don't want to, it's okay, I just-"

"No, I want to!" Credence hurriedly interrupted, toying with his sleeve. "I... ah, I don't know when a good time is. I'm always kept busy at home, b-but did you have a place in mind?"

No, Graves thought, because he just blurted the question like an idiot with no plan in mind. He panicked and the question popped out, surprising both himself and Credence.

"Anywhere you'd like."

Credence's eyes remained wide, still in a shocked state, and his mouth looked as though he tried to form words, though came up empty.

"How about this," Graves said, improvising. "You tell me a time that works and I'll take you somewhere ー a surprise restaurant ー that night?"

"Okay. I, um. Friday night?"

If all went well during the rest of the week, Graves would have Saturday off of work, as well as Friday evening, so he nodded, smiling.

"Can we meet after I'm done working? At five?"

"Sure."

"Here, at five?"

Graves nodded again. Credence looked behind himself to the busy tables filled with eagerly chatting people, then back to Graves. He smiled nervously. "I'll see you then, Graves," he said.

He dropped the 'detective' honorific in his name, Graves noted. Good. Perhaps they could put that interview at the station behind them. After having two weeks to think it over, Graves severely regretted the way he'd treated Credence during the interview. He should've known better than to push Credence when he was already in a terrifying situation, trapped in a room with a detective that had previously accused him of being a prostitute.

Maybe, with this light approach, Credence would open up in the future.

_________

Ma expected him home at five-thirty, as per usual, after his shift at work ended. His early bedtime and fasting ended five days ago, to his relief, and all of Ma's punishments healed up to the point they no longer hurt; they were only visible, ready to scar over like the rest. There'd surely be more to come after what he was about to do.

Credence saw Graves standing outside, dressed in a sharp black suit, his dark coat overlaying it. Sometimes Credence wondered how a man who worked as a narcotics detective dressed so well. Surely he didn't get paid that much?

Either way, it didn't matter. Credence, in his black pants and white button up, felt severely underdressed. This whole situation overwhelmed him. He was going to go out for dinner, on what he'd probably call a date, with a man who'd interviewed him at the station. To say the past few weeks of his life had been interesting would be an understatement. Ma would probably keel over if she knew about this ー but she wouldn't. Credence would make sure of it.

Hopefully, she would buy his excuse of being kept late at work.

It'd happened before. They'd gotten busy and asked Credence to stay a few hours longer.

Those were, of course, on days he hadn't worked nine hours, but Ma likely wouldn't care to think about that fact.

Breathing in deeply, Credence pushed open the door to outside, meeting the cold air of New York with a nervous but excited demeanour. The fact that Graves ー a man that could likely get whatever he wanted in life ー asked Credence to dinner, made him want to sway with happiness. The fact that Graves was a man, that there was some sort of wrongness accompanying him on his date, got tucked into the back of his head where he tried to shove down the rest of Ma's teachings. Even so, Credence was committing no sin by going out for dinner.

Graves took notice of Credence once the door closed and smiled. "How'd work go?" He asked.

"Well," Credence stated. "I'm a bit tired, but it's nothing too bad. How about you?"

"Same as usual. Nothing too exciting. Mostly just paperwork, actually. But work's over now, and we're going somewhere exciting."

"Exciting?" Credence asked, a thrill shooting through him. The same feeling he had right before visiting the Blue Moon.

"Well, maybe exciting is the wrong term. But. Somewhere nice. The decorations are a bit eccentric, and the owners of the place are related to my partner."

Wow, Graves really was taking him somewhere nice.

He watched as Graves hailed a cab, ready to be taken somewhere far away from home, to be swept away into the rest of the city, to experience the life everyone else did. To feel partly normal just as he did at the Blue Moon.

The cab took them further into the city, to the nice part, the part Ma looked down upon because of all the people who sat in luxury, not following the Lord's message and helping out those who needed it.

Excitement surged to an insurmountable level in Credence.

He made small talk with Graves, his heart pounding as he looked out the window, watching the nice brownstones of Brooklyn go by. A part of him couldn't believe this was actually happening, that he'd gone against everything Ma instilled in him.

"We're almost there," Graves said, also looking out the window. "If Queenie or Jacob happen to be there, they'll inevitably come talk to me, and wonder who you are."

Oh, Credence thought. Was Graves embarrassed by him? Was it because he was so young? Because of how different he was? Most people could pick up on the fact he wasn't normal quite quickly, and they'd stare at him and talk when they thought he wasn't listening.

"I don't want to assume, and I don't want them to assume either. You can say we just met through my work, that you're a friend, or-"

"Graves, it doesn't matter to me."

"Percival, please."

"What?"

Graves laughed a little. "We're going out to dinner. I think you deserve to call me by my first name."

Percival was a nice name, Credence thought. Dignified and intense, much like Graves was.

"I like that name," Credence blurted. "Percival," he said, trying the name out.

"Thank you."

Credence was glad the setting sun hid his face heating up.

A silence kept up between them after for a couple minutes, comfortably shared. Credence didn't like small talk and Graves didn't seem the type for it either.

Finally, the cab stopped in front of a beautiful building. The front had huge windows in which patrons happily enjoyed their food. Vines grew upon the brick and fairy lights hung from the veranda above. Kowalski's, the sign read in fancy script. The place didn't seem like an overly expensive restaurant like the five-star ones he saw in ads, but it had a nice homey atmosphere that made it pleasant and warm. Credence followed Graves inside, enchanted by the beautiful decorations. From the ceiling hung these sort of wooden figures of fantastical animals.

Graves noticed Credence starting.

"My partner's fiancé made those. He works at the zoo, but I think he has an interest in mythological creatures on the side," Graves explained.

The intricate little carvings amazed Credence.

"I reserved us a table, too. We won't have to wait long if you're hungry."

"I had a bit to eat at work, don't worry."

"Good to hear," Graves said, then redirected his attention to the hostess, who'd returned to the wooden podium up front.

"Mr. Graves, it's good to see you again!" She exclaimed. She looked young, probably Credence's age, and the way her eyes lit up with her smile suggested she was the type of person who beamed at strangers on the street, and maybe even greeted them.

"I have your seats waiting for you guys. Queenie and Jacob aren't in tonight, sorry to say, but Queenie said to say hello for her."

"Tell her it's much appreciated," Graves smiled, proceeding to follow the hostess to a corner where their table stood decorated with a white cloth. A small candle burned in an antique looking cage and there stood two empty wine glasses beside it. Credence hesitated.

This place... it had to be too expensive for him. The money he'd managed to bring with him would probably cover the price, but even then...

"Credence?" Graves prodded.

Credence came back to himself, taking a seat at the table so he no longer just stood there frozen in front of the table. Graves stared at Credence as if waiting for an explanation.

"This is a nice place," Credence commented warily, glancing around yet again.

"Mm. Like I said, my partner's sister is a co-owner. We get to eat here at a greatly reduced price, I assure you. Not that I wouldn't take us to a more pricey joint if you'd like-"

"No, I like it here. It's... nice," Credence finished lamely, unable to come up with adequate words to describe the magic of this place. He'd never been to such a nice restaurant. Ma would never pay for them to go to go 'gorge themselves on such a frivolous use of money.'

In a way, Kowalski's put him in a dream state. So far away from his neighbourhood, in a beautiful restaurant, with a man that asked him to be here, Credence could barely comprehend it. Surreal, perhaps, would be a better word choice to describe Kowalski's than nice.

Graves picked up the wine menu from the table and handed it to Credence. "Is there anything you'd like? I can recommend something if there's nothing that jumps out at you."

Credence briefly looked over the menu, the large array of wine looking like a foreign language. He looked back up to Graves, setting the menu back on the table. "I shouldn't have anything to drink," Credence said; which, in fact, was a true statement. If he came home smelling anything like alcohol, Ma would be able to call his lie in a second.

"Alright, just water tonight then? I'll have the same."

The fact Graves wasn't thrown off by Credence's rejection to drink made a warm and unnamed feeling fall over Credence.

Perhaps Graves deserved to know some of the truth if he was willing to be so kind.

"My mother... she- she wouldn't approve of me going out tonight. I'm supposed to be home after my shift everyday ー but I figured I can try and pass it off as work keeping me longer."

Graves suddenly looked alarmed. "Credenceー"

"It's okay, though. I wanted to get away again. Just like that night I went to the Blue Moon. She wouldn't have known I'd gone if I hadn't been arrested. I just want a night for myself... and, um, to see you. Too."

Upon hearing the last words, Graves smiled again, watching Credence with those unfairly intense eyes. It looked as though a million thoughts were flitting through Graves' head, and that he was holding back on voicing each one.

"Forgive me if this is too personal, but why are you still living with her?" Graves finally asked.

Credence knew this question would be asked eventually, and that the subject of his mother would be unavoidable. Even still, he couldn't help the tensing of his shoulders. This was a question he'd asked himself a million times after he'd turned eighteen, and a question he was sure to keep asking himself.

"Iー well. There are a lot of reasons." Credence looked away from Graves to the cars passing by outside. "I finished high school, but past that, I never had any more education. And I know it's impossible to find a job without a degree soー"

"Who told you that?" Graves interrupted.

Credence looked back to Graves, surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, a heavy frown set upon his face.

"My mother. Articles I've read. I'd been told it a million times in school too."

Graves shook his head. "While having a degree of some sort certainly helps, it's not impossible to get a job. Not nearly so. There are a lot of successful people in this world who've gotten far without a degree."

"But..." Credence stopped himself, not wanting to self-depreciate on a first date. Graves watched him expectantly.

"I'm- I'm not like them. I'm not talented at anything and..." Credence drifted off, letting the sounds of silverware clinking and the chatter of the people around them fall over them.

Graves sighed heavily.

Credence cringed. "I'm sorry," he said softly, not even knowing why he was saying it.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for? I'm upset you've been told all of this enough to believe it," Graves said, affronted.

Credence went back to staring Graves, warmth spreading all over him again, his mouth surely half-hanging open in surprise. To be perfectly honest, he'd never quite thought about himself like thatー like everything Ma had told him had been untrue. Of course, he'd had doubts, but to hear it so clearly stated, by Graves, a man who seemed to know everything with the confidence he radiated, cleared Credence's mind. For the first time in his life, it felt like he could see.

And what he wanted was right in front of him.

But why, of all people, did Graves choose to go out to dinner with him, Credence? He still lived with his mother, worked as a waiter, and he knew his appearance to be nothing special. He often paused with his words and made a fool of himself. So why?

Credence turned away from Graves to the window again.

"I've turned the conversation rather serious. I'm sorry. Probably not the best talk for a dinner," Graves stated. He looked as though he was about to say more, but a waiter finally came to their table, taking away the tension.

"My name is Brianna, I'm you're waiter tonight. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?"

"Just water for us both, please," Graves told her.

"Sure thing," she smiled, leaving them alone again.

"So, you said you have a sister?" Graves asked suddenly.

Credence shook his head. "I have two, actually. Modesty and Chastity. Chastity is just about eighteen and Modesty is eight. What about you?"

"I have a brother. Younger than me. I never see him though."

"Why not?"

"Work keeps us apart," Graves shrugged. "I suppose I should make an effort to see him more, but my boss is intent on taking up all my free time."

Credence gave a sympathetic smile, suddenly looking down at the menu. He supposed they should probably pick out something to eat. Graves followed his lead, picking up the menu.

Looking at all the options, he became overwhelmed at the choices. He didn't know where to start, everything sounded amazing.

"Any suggestions for the food?" Credence asked.

"The steak is good."

Credence looked around, and found a picture of the food. He loved steak, so it sounded more than good to him.

"I'll order that, then," Credence stated, then took a sip of his water. The cold of it helped ground him a bit, bringing him back to the situation at hand. A need to fill the silence with conversation struck him up.

"Did you end up getting anything out of arresting all those people at the Blue Moon?"

"Yes, thankfully. We caught one of the men guilty of trafficking red-handed. There were a few others charged with minor offenses. We'd hoped to get more out of the whole operation, but as far as things go, it was somewhat successful. Though, of course, that wasn't enough for my superior."

"I'm glad you caught someone. I heard about all the overdoses in the neighbourhood, Ma never stops talking about it. It's terrible."

Graves nodded. "I feel that we've only made a dent in the whole operation, however. We're far from stopping it."

Their waiter coming back to the table cut the conversation short.

"You guys ready to order?" She asked.

"Yes," Graves started. "I'll have the usual, thank you."

The waitress turned to Credence expectantly.

"And I'll have the steak. Um, medium rare, please."

"Sure thing," she smiled, writing the order down onto her notepad. "I'll have your order out to you guys in a bit."

She left, again leaving silence in her wake.

"Why'd you become a narcotics detective if it keeps you so busy?" Credence asked.

Graves looked up, considering his answer. "A mix of things, really. My parents were hit by a driver under the influence of a hallucinogenic, and while that did influence me, that wasn't the only reason. I'd always wanted to go into something involving detective work, but homicide seemed a bit much for me. Narcotics just seemed to fit. Sure it's a lot of paperwork and surveillance, but I could think of worse jobs. My parents left everything to my brother and I, so money was never a worry. But I wanted to do something with my life. Thus, here I am. What about you? Any job aspirations of your own?"

Credence wanted to say he was sorry for Graves' loss, but Graves expertly shifted the subject away from himself.

"I've always wanted to be a teacher," Credence answered. Ever since he was a child, in fact. He liked being around Modesty and, given the opportunity, he thought he'd do well teaching younger children. They were so untouched by the cynicism of the world, and Credence adored their unending curiosity about the world.

"I can see you being a teacher," Graves laughed. "It's oddly fitting."

"Thanks," Credence said, not knowing what else to say.

They continued to learn about each other for a bit, Credence thankful the topic of the fresh scars on his hands never coming up. Eventually, their waitress brought out their food, which smelled absolutely wonderful. He never wanted to leave Kowalski's. At the first taste of the steak, he nearly moaned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such rich food. He was careful not to devour it all immediately, mindful of his manners in front of Graves, who carefully picked at his spaghetti.

Towards the end of their meal, Credence began to panic. His time with Graves was almost up, which meant that he'd have to go back to Ma, and going back to Ma meant that he'd have to try and pull off a lie. And if the lie didn't work, it meant more pain.

"So, how'd you like your steak?" Graves asked.

"It was amazing," Credence said, amazed by the fact he finished such a large portion. It tasted that amazing.

Graves gave a slight laugh. "You certainly did better than I did," he looked down at his half-finished bowl of spaghetti. "Should I ask for the bill, or are you feeling up for dessert?"

Credence shook his head rapidly. "I'm more than full, thanks."

"Sure thing. I'll ask for the bill, then. And Credence... I'd like to see you again. Tonight's been nice. Refreshing, really." Graves leaned forward a bit. "I'll pay for you too. Please keep your tip money."

Credence couldn't hold back a large grin, no matter how much he tried to. Graves wanted to see him again. He wanted to see him again. Credence could hardly believe it.

"I-I can pay for myself, it's notー"

"No, I brought you out for dinner, you deserve it. And I suspect that you need that money you made for another trip to somewhere like the Blue Moon, hmm?"

Credence found he couldn't look into Graves' eyes and lie. "Yes," he admitted.

"Thought so," Graves said, then tried to wink. Emphasis on tried. It ended up looking like a wince, and Credence found himself giggling. _Giggling_. Soon enough, Graves joined him in laughing. Credence couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such unadulterated joy. By God did he not want to ever leave Kowalski's. He didn't want the magic to end.

Sadly, reality set in a bit when their waitress came to them with a bill and Graves paid for them both. They stood up and put their jackets on, leaving the fairy lights and fancy animal statues behind, to be sorted into Credence's few memories of good moments in his life.

"I guess this is where we split up?" Graves asked.

"Yes. Iー I'd like to see you again too. If... If that's what you want."

"It is."

Credence smiled.

"You have my number. Just text or call anytime," Graves said. "Goodbye, Credence."

"Bye," Credence said, watching as Graves took off to catch a cab. He couldn't believe how quickly the whole evening had ended. Last he'd checked his watch, it'd been seven-thirty. And now it was nine.

Credence caught a cab as well, somewhat scared to see the price when they got to his destination, but he figured they weren't that far away. And he'd liked to have way more than enough money in his pocket.

Either way, he'd end up home, where Ma waited.

____________

In the end, Ma believed him. She'd been suspicious, but she didn't push him further after asking why his work would require him for such a long time.

The magic of Kowalski's faded and reality set in. Credence had just been on a date with a man, and it's hardly phased him at the time. It still didn't, if he were being honest with himself, and that was what scared him the most. Reality dictated that this thing with Graves couldn't continue. Credence's luck with lying to Ma wouldn't last, and it was unrealistic to think Graves would like a person such as Credence long-term. He was probably just some fling to Graves, nothing more. And Credence didn't want to experience the heartbreak and rejection that would come with Graves discarding him like everyone else in his life had.

It was better to forget. Less painful, that way.

Credence didn't call Graves. He avoided it, even if he did keep Graves' number just in case. One day, nearly two weeks after their date, Graves had come into his work again. Credence pretended he'd suddenly gotten sick and that he needed to sit down for a bit. Nora bought it, of course, considering Credence never called in sick. Never said he felt under the weather.

And thus, avoiding Graves continued on. Credence didn't feel any better for it; he told himself it was necessary, that in the end, it would be better for himself to be free of Graves.

Three and a half weeks in, Ma had a fit, claiming Credence didn't devote himself enough to the Lord's message after he prioritized a shift at work over going to church.

Three and a half weeks in, Credence couldn't handle the judgment in his household after Ma had gone on some rant about two men holding hands on the street. _Holding hands_. The worst part of it had been Chastity agreeing with her, looking for her approval. Sometimes Credence worried Modesty would be sucked up into following Ma's beliefs too.

Three and a half weeks in, Credence went to the Blue Moon again.

What a mistake that'd been.

______

Blue lights shone over the dance floor, immersing Credence into the dark underworld of nightlife yet again. Even after the drug bust, the Blue Moon remained the same. People still danced with fervour, drunk and perhaps high out of their mind, unable to pay attention to Credence.

This time, Credence decided to try whiskey. It burned on the way down. A lot. He coughed for a while after having his first sip, yet continued to drink it. In the end, he didn't know why he kept having it or why he came to the Blue Moon in the first place. He just wanted to lose himself to the neon lights and crowd.

He'd even succeeded in doing so for a while, dancing along with some unnamed girl until he got bored of it and she got too close for comfort.

It'd all been going well until he saw Graves.

The man looked nothing like the last few times Credence had seen him. He'd grown some stubble, his hair wasn't locked into a neat style, and he wore a white v-neck and black skinny jeans. He looked unfairly attractive and Credence hated it. He hated that Graves, who was one of the older people in the club, somehow looked more in place than Credence ever could.

The moment he made eye contact with Credence, he froze, his eyes widening. Credence too, stood still.

All it took was Graves moving forward to break the spell. Credence backed away, ignoring the call of his name. He had to leave the club immediately, he had to be far away from the detective. Credence ran out the door into the brisk October night, uncaring of the goosebumps that rose along his bare arm as the chilly wind dug into him.

Why? Why did Graves have to be there the one night he wanted to himself? Graves was always there whenever Credence wanted to escape from reality, shoving his way into Credence's life with his caring eyes.

More than anything else, it befuddled Credence. Nobody cared about him that way.

"Credence!" Graves called, rounding the corner.

Credence startled, but didn't have the energy or want to run anymore.

"What are you doing here Credence? I said you should stay away," Graves told him.

"I wanted to escape."

"Yes, well, you chose a bad night to do so. Yet again. We aren't arresting anyone tonight, but I've seen a lot of people we've been watching. I just finished surveillance andー"

Graves stopped, noticing Credence's face start to bunch up, his eyes clouding over with tears.

"Credence? Are you alright?"

"Why do you care so much?!" Credence yelled, his voice taking on an angry quality he was unused to.

"I don't know. I don't think I ever will. I saw someone stuck in a bad place at the station, and I wanted to help. I've never felt this. All I know is that you deserve better than how that woman has been treating you. I canー I can help you Credence, if you'd just let me. There are people who'll help. You could... you could stay with me, or my partner if that would be preferable. Just. Please. I see all the scars, I see that weary look in your eyes. Let me help you."

Credence blinked, wide-eyed, with eyes stinging, ready to cry if pushed any further. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt filled to the brim with emotions that wanted to burst out.

So he stepped forward.

And he kissed Graves.

It was a hasty press of their lips, nothing overly special considering Credence had never kissed anyone before, but it crossed a significant boundary in his head, one he could never cross back over no matter how hard he tried.

Graves made a small sound of surprise, then pulled Credence closer, moving his lips against Credence's, guiding him. He pushed Credence up against the alley's wall, causing Credence to distantly wonder how many times this had happened in this alley before, until the thought was forgotten when he felt Graves' tongue at his lips.

Credence opened his mouth, surprised by all the sensations going on. He could feel Graves' warm breath against his own and Graves wore some sort of cologne Credence loved the smell of.

He'd never kissed anyone before, but it this was how it felt, Credence never wanted to stop, no matter how awkward it had been at first. Graves, however, was an expert at guiding him.

His hands rested on Graves' waist while Graves hands were on his shoulders, his body warm against his own.

They departed from each other finally, staring into each other's eyes. A million words passed between them, Graves' dark eyes warm and inviting against the cold around them. He drew Credence in like a moth to a flame.

"Graves!"

Credence jumped away from Graves to look at the woman who called Graves' name.

At the end of the alley stood the woman detective he'd seen with Graves when they first raided the Blue Moon.

Graves' partner, Tina.

Reality set in for Credence yet again. He stilled in shock over what just occurred.

"Iー I have to got home," Credence said, backing away.

"Credence, waitー" Graves called, but Credence took off at a brisk pace then finally a run, off into the streets of New York with no intention in mind, no jacket to ward off the cold, and the kiss playing over and over in his head.

He'd kissed another man and it felt good. He did not feel as though he'd be taken to hell, or that the devil seduced him, leading him astray into sin. None of the shit Ma preached. Instead, it simply felt right, nothing more.

________

"Where did you go?!" Tina shouted the second Graves turned to face her.

"I..." Graves hesitated.

"You were right behind me then I turned around and you were gone! I thought somebody had taken you or worse! We're partners, Graves! We agreed to never separate unless we tell each other! And wasn't that the boy at the station a few weeks ago?! What were you-"

Tina stopped herself, recalling how close they stood together even after she interrupted them. And there was the fact that Graves would never leave her back unless-

"Oh no. No, no, no. Don't tell meー Percival Graves, he's half your age!" Tina yelled.

"Tinaー"

"Queenie told me you were at her restaurant with someone young. Was it him?"

"Tinaー"

"Was. It. Him?!"

"Yes! For god's sake, Tina, you don't have to yell at me to get across how odd this situation is. Believe me, I know."

Tina sighed. "I'm just... well, I'm surprised, for one. When was the last time you had an interest in anybody? God knows why it's him, but just. Be careful, at least. Alright?"

"You know I always am," Graves said dryly.

"Really? Then what do you call running out of the club on me?"

"Aside from that instance," Graves corrected, not appreciating Tina's glaring.

Tina rolled her eyes. "Whatever. We have reports to do, let's not waste time standing around anymore."

Graves followed Tina back to their car, worrying about Credence and the way he ran off. He'd seemed so sure he wanted to kiss, and then... Not? Perhaps Tina interrupting them set reality in.

But even then, Graves worried.

________

Credence creaked the door open, allowing himself to hope. All of the lights inside were off, and perhaps it wasn't too far-fetched to believe Ma and the girls were sound asleep in their beds upstairs. Given all the practice he'd had sneaking out, maybe Ma wouldn't hear him crawl into bed at this late hour.

Then, the light in the kitchen flicked on, flooding the room in yellow light.

Ma sat at the dining room table, her face eerily devoid of any expression.

Credence took in a deep breath.

"Where were you?" She asked calmly, standing up.

"I was... I was out at the park," Credence said, just barely avoiding cringing at the weak lie.

"Where were you really?" She stepped closer, almost into his personal space.

He swallowed, looking down at the floor, preparing himself for the upcoming strike. "I was at the Blue Moon," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward. "I smell the alcohol on you. And... cologne!"

She roughly pushed him away from her, staring at her hands as though they'd been stained by blood.

"What have you done, you sinful boy!?"

Credence's shaky silence answered her question.

"You degenerate! I took you in, on my good will, and look at what you've done! Get out! Get out, now!"

Credence's heart thundered in his chest. "But Ma-"

"I am not your mother! I said. Get. Out!" She screeched, her eyes radiating pure hatred, her face red.

Upstairs, Credence heard a creak. Chastity and Modesty stood in their nightclothes, their faces just as shocked as Credence's. Modesty even looked to have tears in her eyes, and she held her hand up to her mouth, trying to keep it all in.

"What about myー"

"OUT!" Mary Lou screamed.

Credence backed away slowly at first, tears flooding his vision, before he turned around, heading for the door, hardly believe this was actually happening. Tears fell freely down his face once he met the cold night air, lost to shock. He sobbed, realizing he'd lost his own home, that he had nowhere to stay for the night, and it'd only end up getting colder outside.

The money in his back pocket probably wasn't enough for even the cheapest motel.

Walking down the sidewalk aimless, Credence brushed away the tears flowing down his face freely, unaware of his surroundings. If a person or two passed him, he didn't care. The world was over, as far as he was concerned, even with New York bright an alive around him.

Maybe they'd take him in at the homeless shelter. He looked young enoughー or maybe there'd be a restaurant he could go to warm up. Or-

_Wait._

He still had Graves' number in the pocket of his pants.

Graves wanted to help him. He practically pleaded with Credence to let him help. So why was Credence hesitating? There was a pay phone near the supermarket just a few blocks away. He had the change in his pocket. So why?

Credence knew exactly why. He just wouldn't admit it to himself.

He couldn't believe that someone like Graves could care about him after a lifetime of scorn. Credence believed himself unlovable.

But maybe, just this one time, he could allow himself to hope.

Credence shivered with no jacket on in the cold winds of the night as he made his way to the pay phone. He could only hope that Graves would pick up at such a late time. If not, Credence was on his own with forty dollars and fifty cents in his pocket in the freezing night of New York.

Once he made it to the pay phone, he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. They froze as he typed in each number of Graves' as quickly as he could. The phone rung for a bit, and just when he began to lose hope, he heard the other line pick up.

" _Hello?_ " Graves asked, not introducing himself this time. Maybe because it was so late.

"Percival?" Credence asked shakily.

" _Credence?! What's going on?"_

"I- my mother, she kicked me out. I didn't know where else to go or who to call, I'm sorry it's so late. I'm just so cold and-"

" _Credence where are you? I'll come and get you, okay?_ "

"O-okay," Credence agreed, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'm at Jones Street, near the market. Do you know where that is?"

" _Yes. It's not far from where I live. Just hold on, I'll leave now. I'll be there in..._ " Graves paused, presumably looking at a clock. " _I'll be there in five minutes._ "

"Thank you so much," Credence said, trying to keep from tearing up again.

" _It's truly no problem, Credence. Five minutes, okay?_ "

"Okay."

 _"I'll see you soon."_ Graves then hung up the phone, leaving Credence to the cold air again. Credence thought he knew how to deal with cold, never having sufficient warm clothes for the winter, but this brought a whole other definition of freezing into his life. Covering his arms didn't help, bunching in on himself only succeeded in highlighting the parts of him that weren't covered, and no matter what he did, his ears stung every time a gust of wind hit him.

A car passed by every once in a while, and five minutes felt like an eternity.

Eventually, a black car pulled up, stopping beside him. The lights turned off and out stepped Graves in the same long black coat Credence saw him wear at his work. In his hand was another coat, one he held out for Credence in offering.

Credence took it from his hands gently, then wrapped the coat around himself, thankful for the warmth it immediately brought him. He looked up to Graves, struggling to come up with words adequate enough to thank him. Graves didn't have to come and get him so late into the night, but the point was that he did, even after Credence avoided him for weeks and ran away after he kissed him.

He truly was indebted to Graves' kindness.

"It's warmer in the car," Graves broke the silence, gesturing to the passenger's side.

Credence didn't hesitate. It'd been a turbulent night; more than anything else, he'd like to be wrapped up in warmth and to sleep. Once they got inside the car, Credence nearly jumped in surprise at how the leather seat burned him. Yet, it was a pleasant burn, a burn Credence let sink into his skin, relaxing into the seat.

Graves started the car again, but didn't immediately take off. Credence sniffled.

"Are you alright?" Graves questioned, turning to look at Credence.

"Not really, no. Iー I have nowhere to go, and any of the money I earned through work went to Ma. I have nothing." Credence barely fought off the tears threatening to fall, pointedly not looking at Graves. "She took everything from me, then discarded me in the end as if I'm worth nothing, justー just because I like other men!"

Tears fell from his eyes, hot and burning, as he let out a sob. It was like a dam broke, and years of his torment came spilling out, all in front of Graves.

He felt a hand reach out to take his own, Graves' grasping his hand firmly. "Credence, I'm so sorry. I know the world feels as though it's crashing down around you, but you're going to be okay. I'll make sure of it, because I care. I care, and my partner cares, and I'm sure a hell of a lot of other people do too."

"Why do you care so much?" Credence cried, trying to stop the gasping sobs, but unsuccessfully stopping them. He didn't care that this was the second time he'd asked Graves, he only wanted an answer, a reason to believe Graves wouldn't discard him either.

Graves bit his lip, his face openly betraying his own confusion.

"I don't know," Graves admitted. "I just do."

Simple as that.

A trail of proof followed Graves, betraying how much he cared, and Credence still couldn't fully believe him. The man had tried to help Credence when he saw the scar, he'd flirted with Credence and gave him his phone number, took him out for dinner and paid, kissed him outside the Blue Moon, and now he was taking Credence home when he had nowhere else to go.

Credence gripped the sleeve of the coat Graves gave him, trying to keep from shaking. He wanted to sleep, to forget about this day's events, to cease to exist for just one minute.

In response to Credence's silence, Graves started the car, taking them away from the phone booth to wherever it was Graves lived. In all the emotional turmoil, with his head spinning, somehow Credence could only wonder about how Graves owned such a nice car in New York on a detective's salary.

His head lolled, resting on the car door, watching the streetlights pass by, blurred by the tears that kept entering his eyes. It wasn't long until Graves stopped the car again, parking in front of a row of brownstones. It shouldn't have surprised Credence that Graves lived in a very nice home by that point, but his eyes widened regardless.

"I have a spare room," Graves said, leading them up the steps. He withdrew his key from his coat's pocket, turned it within the lock, and pushed open the door, revealing an already lit hallway. The warmth of the house hit Credence as soon as he shut the door behind him.

A black cat came running into the hallway, immediately rubbing up against Graves' leg. It looked at Credence curiously but otherwise paid him no mind.

"Don't mind him," Graves said. "He's very affectionate, he won't hiss at you or anything."

Credence looked up from the cat to Graves, then around to the rest of the home. The hallway had an archway off the right, where the living room was, and at the end of the hall, Credence could see a counter and steel stove.

"I suppose you're probably tired. I'll show you the guest room. We can talk about everything tomorrow."

"Okay," was all Credence replied with, more than ready to escape from his life for just a few hours.

Graves lead him to a bedroom double the size of his own back home ー or maybe not home now ー with a bed that dwarfed the single bed he slept in every night.

"Are you going to be okay for the night?" Graves asked.

Credence entered the room and nodded.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Also, the bathroom is just down the hall if you need it."

Credence nodded again.

"Goodnight, Credence."

Credence finally looked to Graves again, his eyes red-rimmed. "I don't know how to thank you."

Graves gave him a small smile. "You don't have to. Just... tomorrow just let me help you, alright?"

"Alright," Credence nodded. "Goodnight, Percival."

"Night," Graves replied, truly smiling. He turned, heading down the hallway, presumably to his own room.

Credence shut the door, then immediately collapsed into the bed, only bothering to take his shoes and coat off. The covers were soft and warm, the mattress like lying on a cloud compared to his own springy one. Within a minutes Credence was asleep, allowing darkness to take him.

________

Credence awoke to the sun shining in his eyes, the warm light pouring through the sheer curtains covering a large window he'd hadn't even noticed the night previous. Distantly, he heard the hum of a heater and cars passing by outside.

For just a second, he forgot the reason he woke up in the foreign room.

Until it all hit him like a cold wave of water.

He was homeless.

Credence closed his eyes for a time, not wanting to cry again. He had to face this, to be strong in the face of this new challenge. Tears would accomplish nothing. Instead, he should head downstairs, where Graves likely sat having coffee or breakfast. Judging by the sun outside, it wasn't that late in the morning.

Credence left the warmth of the bed reluctantly, smoothing the creases in his shirt once he stood up. He walked downstairs slowly, not quite prepared to tell Graves everything. At the landing, he hesitated. It would be easy to walk out the door and find his way in life, maybe go crawling back to Ma, begging to be forgiven of his sins, but Credence didn't want to leave Graves.

Because no amount of denial could cover up the fact he kissed Graves and liked it. That he wanted Graves.

Credence didn't see Graves in the hallway, so he crept further down the hall and poked his head into the kitchen. Graves sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and looking at his phone.

Upon hearing a floorboard creek when Credence stepped into the room, Graves looked up. "Morning," he said.

Credence took note of Graves' sleep rumpled appearance; the way his hair wasn't in any discernible style, how he wore a simple t-shirt and sleep pants, and how his eyes were tired, with dark shadows underneath.

"Good morning," Credence finally said.

"Sleep well?"

Credence nodded, shyly stepping further into the kitchen.

"Come sit down." Graves gestured to the table. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," Credence admitted.

Graves made no insistence he eat, and went back to looking at his phone. He typed out something on it then shut it off, placing it on the table. Credence pulled out a chair, sitting across from him. It felt eerily reminiscent of the first time they met, at the station, where Graves questioned him about his scars.

Of course, now that Graves knew more about him, Credence was willing to answer such questions. And yet, this conversation carries the same weight that first one they had did.

"My mother kicked me out because she smelled cologne on me," Credence wasted no time in admitting. It was bound to be asked at some point. "She's always been... forward in her hate for gay people. It'd transferred over to me for a while, too, but I think I stopped believing in anything she said long before I first went to the Blue Moon. So when she smelt cologne on me and alcohol, she made the connection quickly and I couldn't come up with a proper lie fast enough. So here I am."

"Fuck, I'm sorry Credence," Graves said, frowning. "Nobody should have to grow up around that."

Credence merely shrugged. "I was adopted by her, so I thought that it wouldn't sting as much if she kicked me out... but. To hear her say she wasn't my mother, itー" Credence clenched his eyes shut trying to stop himself from crying in front of Graves again. "It still hurt. And then there's the fact I can't see Modesty anymore."

"Your sister?"

Credence nodded. "She was always kind to me."

"I'm sure there's some way you'll be able to see her again," Graves tried to reassure him.

"I'd never be allowed to. I would 'corrupt' Modesty if I came too close."

Graves fumed at that. "And the marks on your hands... I'm assuming they're from her?"

"Yes. There'sー" Credence hesitated. A lifetime of lying to teachers and peers about the pain he went through was hard to reverse. But it was finally time he told the truth. "There are more on my back too."

"Does she do the same to your sisters?"

"Not to Chastity. She's hit Modesty before, b-but not like she's done to me."

Graves looked Credence squarely in the eyes, that intense look of his present again. "I swear to you Credence, that I'll talk to Tina, and we're going to do something. I'll help you. Your sisters don't have to go through what you have."

Credence gave a watery smile, just barely allowing himself to believe a lifetime of dark finally had a light present in it.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now that I don't have anywhere to go," he confessed.

"You can stay with me for however long you need. It's no burden to me. If anything, I'd more than appreciate your company. I'm sure that I can help you find work, or whatever else you need."

Credence nearly cried again.

Graves stood up. "Come here," he said.

Credence stood up and Graves gathered him in his arms. Credence instantly relaxed into the hug. Buried in the comfort and warmth of Graves' arms, with his face tucked into the space between Graves' neck and shoulder, Credence finally allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there were people in the world who could come to care about him.

That maybe he really was worth something. That other people would do good, that the world wasn't full of those who took and took.

Credence held onto Graves tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> If you somehow made it to the end of this, I love you <3
> 
> Follow me at my Tumblr [bastila-s](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bastila-s)


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